


Words

by OtterMcKilbourne (p_3a)



Series: NaNoWriMo 2014 [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: M/M, additional ratings by chapter, tags by chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-13 07:52:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 10,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2143008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p_3a/pseuds/OtterMcKilbourne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A group of stories in which individual words were used as prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mamihlapinatapei

**Author's Note:**

> Additional tags and ratings are by chapter. Please ensure you read the author notes for each chapter before reading the chapter itself!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: T  
> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: character death mention

It only became unavoidable after the Legion had made landfall, really.

Before that, they could pass it off in all sorts of ways. To strangers, they’d scoff and tell them they were reading far too much into a simple game of jihui. To friends, they’d claim it was simply curiosity in such a different way of life. Anduin would  _never_  be interested in a  _man_ , and Wrathion would  _never_  be interested in a  _human_. And to each other, they’d smile coyly and avoid staying the night. Neither wanted to seem too attached.

But they were attached, weren’t they? Those late night games of many kinds - card games, board games, word games. Those long, joyful letter exchanges. Those careless ways their eyes would light up when they each heard news of the other.

It only became unavoidable after the Legion had made landfall. It only became unavoidable once they both feared the other might not live another day. Once they’d kissed, for the first time, each pair of hands grasping just as much as the other, only minutes before it was time to go to what might well be their doom.


	2. Strikhedonia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pleasure of being able to say “to hell with it”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: T  
> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: character death mention

Things didn’t look good.

It wasn’t that their plan had gone  _wrong_ , per se, or that someone had made a mistake. It just didn’t seem to be  _enough_. The demons were encroaching further into their defences by the hour - much faster than they were supposed to - and Anduin was starting to get anxious.

"I don’t know what we can do," he said, close to despair. Wrathion had rarely seen him so distressed - usually it was Anduin who raised the mood in the room. But today, clearly, it was Wrathion’s turn.

"Well," the dragon said, tapping a long clawed finger against his chin. "I suppose we’ve really got nothing to lose, then."  
"What are you talking about?"  
"We haven’t done it yet," Wrathion grinned, "for fear of showing our hand too early. But we  _must_  hold this fort, Anduin Wrynn. For the other groups to succeed, we must maintain their attention. And what better way to do it..?”

Anduin paused, then… the smallest grin began to spread across his face. “No. You aren’t saying…”  
"I most certainly am."  
"What if you get injured?"  
"Then we’ll work things out."  
"What if  _I_  get injured?”  
"Then I’m sure you’ll be used as a martyr to inspire the zeal of thousands of troops."  
"…and… if we succeed…"  
"…then this wretched war will finally be won," Wrathion beamed.

The dragon was right. There really was nothing for it. Anduin straightened his back and clapped his hand on his lover’s shoulder. “To hell with it,” he announced. “Let’s fetch the riding harness.”


	3. Brontide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The low rumbling of distant thunder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: G  
> tags: brontophobic wrathion  
> warnings: (none of note)

He should have known. He should have  _known_. This wretched city was called  _Stormwind._  He should have  _known_.

Yet it was still an unpleasant surprise to Wrathion when he heard the distant thunderstorm approaching.

Varian was actually the first one who noticed he was on edge. “Black Prince. What’s wrong.”  
"…nothing," he lied, biting the inside of his cheek. "But if it’s alright, I’ll retire for the night."  
Anduin and Varian both raised an eyebrow, glancing between each other and Wrathion’s still-full plate. They’d only been eating dinner together for five minutes, and Wrathion wanted to leave?

"Make sure you take your food up!" Anduin piped up as Wrathion made for the door. The dragon didn’t wait, though. The older Prince sighed, and looked to his father.

Varian dropped his shoulders. “Go after him,” he said flatly, returning to his own meal.

Anduin collected both his own plate and Wrathion’s, and went to follow him down the corridor.

He just saw Wrathion push his way into the guest bedroom he’d been assigned, so he followed him in. Another roll of thunder rumbled over his ears as he nudged the door closed with his better foot, setting the plates down on the empty desk and glancing around for any sign of a stray tail or errant wing.

He was hiding under the bed.

Anduin shook his head slightly. He’d seen Wrathion react this way before, but it was usually to sulk, and this… didn’t seem like sulking. He quietly picked up the dragon’s plate and set it on the ground, then lay down so he could see underneath the bed for himself.

The dragon was cowering, right at the back, in as small a ball as Anduin had ever seen him.

"Hey," he said, gently. "I brought your dinner."

Wide, frightened red eyes stared back at him. The Black Prince didn’t make a peep.

"…I’ll just slide it under here," Anduin said, doing so. Wrathion glanced to the food, then resumed staring at Anduin.

"You don’t have to be frightened, you know," Anduin continued, standing up stiffly and grunting in pain as he stretched his back. "It won’t hurt you. But you can come and sit in my lap if you want, when you’re ready. I’ll be over by the desk."

No reply, but Anduin knew he’d heard. He supposed it was the best comfort he could offer, right now.


	4. Concilliabule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A secret meeting of people who are hatching a plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: G  
> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: birthdays (positive)

"Shh!  _Shh_!” Anduin was surprised by how often he was needing to tell the Blacktalons to be quiet. He made a gesture with his hand, and the whispering chatter fell quiet.

They were waiting for Wrathion to come home.

They’d been planning this for  _weeks_. Tong hadn’t been on board at first, but after a few wonderfully persuasive conversations with Anduin, he’d agreed to it. Secret meetings and undercover missions were no strange thing to the Blacktalons, but having them without their master’s knowledge was. Still. This was nothing he wouldn’t like, they thought.

Wrathion’s boots clicked on the stairs up to the tavern, and he made a faint noise of surprise when the lanterns were all out. Raising a finger to light one, he found his wrist grabbed in the dark - he yelped, until he realised the grip was far too gentle to be anyone other than Anduin Wrynn.

"Hey," said the older Prince.  
"…what is this about?"  
Anduin grinned sheepishly in the dark. “Uh, we were going to do a bit of a surprise party for you, if that’s alright.”  
"A… surprise…" He trailed off, gazing around the pitch-black room. "Alright. Let’s see what you have to show me."

The lights burst on, and Wrathion squinted in the sudden brightness for a few moments before he could see what they’d done.

A birthday party. For him.

He’d never had one before…


	5. Petrichor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The smell of dry rain on the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: T  
> tags: PTSD anduin  
> warnings: (none of note)

Wrathion had managed to miss Stormwind's eponymous storms, so far. He'd known Anduin for years, and yet he'd only ever visited the city when it was sunny.

Until now.

He was flying in when he felt the first drops of rain hit his wide wings. He'd felt the air pressure change minutes ago, of course, and seen the clouds even longer ago - he knew what he was flying into. He'd only hoped he could make it into the Keep before the real storm hit, and technically, he was right.

It was still only individual drops of rain hitting the warm stone pavements and the hot horns on his head by the time he made a landing on Anduin's balcony. The balcony doors were open, obviously from before the storm made its approach - Anduin must be sleeping.

Since the winds hadn't picked up yet, Wrathion decided to leave them open, for the time being.

He shifted into his humanoid form, so he was small enough to enter the room without breaking the doorframe, and walked to perch on the bed. Indeed, the Prince of Stormwind was taking a nap. He looked peaceful, untroubled. So obviously having taken a sleeping potion, Wrathion thought sadly. He never slept soundly without one. Especially not these days. The war with the Legion had given them all far too much to remember.

The gentle patter of the rain outside picked up, and a single swell of wind carried in a few of the autumn leaves which had fallen on Anduin's balcony. Wrathion was about to stand up to close the doors when he felt a hand grip his wrist; he looked down to see Anduin smiling up at him.

"I like the smell of the rain," he said quietly, tiredly. "Please leave them open for a little while longer?"

"...alright, my love." He raised Anduin's hand to his face, pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it - then lay down beside him, breathed out slowly and let the scent and sound of the storm wash him away to sleep too.


	6. Cagamosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unhappy marriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: T  
> tags: poly wranduin  
> warnings: (none of note)

It had been five years since Anduin Wrynn had married, and Wrathion was beginning to wonder exactly how long it would be before Stormwind's people noticed exactly how much of a charade it was.

It wasn't a charade to him, of course. And it certainly wasn't to Mary Wrynn. She was under absolutely no impression whatsoever that she was there to love her husband, or be loved by him; at least, not in the romantic sense. And not in the sexual sense, either, at least beyond what was absolutely necessary to ensure the continuation of the royal line. Wrathion had absolutely no shadow of a doubt that they loved each other fiercely - but it was the kind of love between friends, between countryfolk. Not between lovers.

Lovers like he and Anduin. And like he and Mary, recently. It seemed there was no one in the land who could get along so well day-to-day with Anduin Wrynn and not manage to catch the attention of Wrathion. They'd started by playing chess, and ended with asking Anduin's permission to play far more than just chess. He'd granted it.

Yet Stormwind's people hadn't noticed... at all. They still wrote long letters about how inspiring the couple were; some even made snide comments about how glad they were Anduin had seen sense and ceased to see that awful dragon, and those ones, Mary read aloud in a very silly voice to the two Kings (who were always unable to keep from laughing).

Wrathion supposed, in a way, they weren't  _wrong_  to idolise the pair of them. It certainly wasn't an unhappy marriage. They were a wonderful couple. Not romantic, no; not sexual. But loving, dedicated, and most certainly a force to be reckoned with by any who would make them their enemy. He only wished the people of Stormwind knew the truth of what they were looking up to - if for no other reason than that they might be able to better echo it in their own lives.


	7. Autolatry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The worship of one's self.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: M  
> tags: anduin only  
> warnings: NSFW mention, abuse mention

It was strange, Anduin thought, that worshipping the Light didn't always  _feel_  like worshipping the Light.

Because... he remembered his lessons with Velen. The Light is different for each of us, and that means that each of us has to serve the Light in a different way. And how we do that is by doing what we feel is good - what makes us feel righteous, or justified, or simply happy. For some, that meant killing wrongdoers and disrupting naysayers. For others, it meant healing and lifting up those around them. For most, it meant tending to their own personal desires without bringing harm to those around them.

It was that last thing that made it feel strange, sometimes. Anduin would go to the Light because he felt as though he was being self-absorbed, lazy, greedy - and the Light would gently soothe him. Tell him, it's alright; if you're hurt, you should say so. It's okay; if you're tired, you should rest. It's fine; if you're hungry, you should eat.

So to do the Light's work... he had to take care of himself. Not as a way of facilitating further actions, but because that action  _in itself_  was an action of the Light.

It felt like self-worship, sometimes. Especially when the Light would reassure him that it was alright to masturbate, or to agree to a one-night stand. Anduin sometimes felt as though he'd grown egotistical and arrogant since he'd begun his studies, but those doubts were always in that little nagging voice in his mind which resembled, most of all, Katrana Prestor's. They weren't true thoughts - their natures weren't echoed in reality.

Varian, most of all, was proud to see his son having grown from a sometimes dangerously selfless child into a confident young man. Especially for saying he hadn't also grown into a demanding one. He'd always had his hesitations about the Light being the right path for his child, especially after it was a path that lead both his childhood sweetheart and his son's other father so very far astray - but every time he saw Anduin trying to hold back on how much he was eating or to stay awake far past when his body had started asking for rest, only for a gentle glow to suffuse him and for him to change his mind... it gave him hope. And he guessed that was the point.

Anduin wasn't aware of the thoughts of his stoic father, but he saw the way he smiled at him these days when he was working with the Light, where before he'd frowned and turned away. It made him glad to see his father proud... although he knew for certain that he would have walked the right path regardless. Choosing to put his own thoughts, opinions, and feelings on an  _equal_  standing with those of his father was far from the worst decision he'd ever made... and if that was the self-worship he deserved, and the self-worship the Light wanted from him, then he could certainly live with that.


	8. Apodyopis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The act of mentally undressing someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: M  
> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: body insecurity mention

Wrathion tried to help it, he really did. But something about how Anduin looked while he was doing his archery practice made it very hard to hold back those thoughts which kept butting in at the edge of his consciousness.

Every time he pulled back his bow, the way his shirt moved over his arms made Wrathion imagine what they'd look like without it. His gaze wandered down to his chest - still so broad and muscled, even after the Bell incident - to his stomach, where the faint outline of his abdominals were revealed every time his shirt rode up as he drew his weapon. He stopped there for a moment, glancing back up at Anduin's face. He was frowning in concentration, his hair ruffled by the faint breeze through the archery range, as he focussed on his target.

He loosed the arrow, but Wrathion didn't pay attention to where it went. Instead, he found his eyes wandering down again. The curve of Anduin's hips was clear under his trousers, and it was a mercy of self-control that Wrathion was able to skip straight down to his strong thighs and his well-defined calves. Anduin had always been so self-conscious about his body since the Bell, but Wrathion really didn't understand why. He was still plenty attractive, and scarring was seen as a sign of strength and wisdom in the Stromgarde culture Wrathion had been raised into; did Stormwind really see it so differently?

They must do. Wrathion had been privy to more than enough midnight breakdowns to know that. He only wished Anduin could see his body as it was: truly worthy of admiration.


	9. Gymnophoria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sensation that someone is mentally undressing you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: T  
> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: illness mention

Wrathion made a living out of watching people, so he liked to think he knew when he was being watched.

And Anduin Wrynn was watching him very closely indeed.

In the casual glances Wrathion had thrown his way, so far he'd caught Anduin staring at his face (resulting in awkward eye contact and a lot of blushing on Anduin's part), his chest (which had Wrathion turning away - he wasn't comfortable with that), and at his neck (which had  _Wrathion_  as the flustered one). And that has only been over the course of ten minutes. Wrathion was sure Anduin had been doing this for much longer; possibly since the start of the meeting they were currently sitting in.

After it was disbanded, Wrathion decided to confront the other Prince about it.

"So," he said, nonchalantly. "I think General Selson raised some good points."  
"She did," Anduin agreed, scratching his cheek. "Except I don't think the plan she suggested would work. We can't just make a frontal approach to an enemy like this one and expect things to work out."  
"You're right. We need to take a longer route." He smirked sideways at Anduin. "Although it could just be that you want to go sight-seeing, since you were quite happy to do plenty of that during the meeting."  
"What..?" Anduin frowned.

Wrathion suddenly turned to face him, stopping him in his tracks. "You were staring at me for most of the meeting. Why."  
"What?!" Anduin looked taken aback, but... guilty.  
"You heard me."  
"...I'm sorry," he said, fidgetting with the hair at the back of his neck. "I couldn't help noticing..."  
"...noticing what?" Wrathion's face suddenly drained. He'd been fairly badly injured in the last skirmish with the Legion, and he'd grown a little sick from infection, too, though not so much he couldn't still go about his day - but he'd been trying very much to keep it a secret from Anduin. The other Prince had far too much to think about already.  
"...how handsome you are," Anduin smiled awkwardly. "I don't know why I was suddenly taken by it in the meeting, but..."

Wrathion cautiously relaxed. He couldn't tell if Anduin was simply copping out of bringing up his real concern, or if that was genuinely the matter. Either way, he was happy to go with it.

"Well, if that's so," he sang, stepping beside Anduin and tangling their hands together, "perhaps you'll be glad to join me this evening for a game of jihui."  
Anduin smiled. "I think that would be lovely."


	10. Druxy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something which looks good on the outside, but is actually rotten inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: T  
> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: manipulation

He'd only been on the Timeless Isle for the equivalent to a day, and already Anduin Wrynn did not like Kairozdormu.

And he was starting to like Wrathion a little less for the longer he and Kairoz spent talking to each other.

It was always, _always_ after he came back from Kairoz that he said the most insufferable things. "Did you know, Anduin Wrynn," he said one scheduled evening, "that the death toll among Stormwind troops with faith in the Light is higher than--"

Anduin almost slapped him. Instead, he walked out.

He could _tell_ Kairoz was doing this. He didn't know if he was doing it deliberately to get to Anduin - or at least to separate the two of them - but it was absolutely his doing. He was almost afraid to bring it up to Wrathion for fear of looking ridiculous... that's what Katrana Prestor would have told him, anyway. That he was just a silly child making things up for attention.

Katrana Prestor had a vested interest in discounting Anduin's suspicions, though. Just like Kairozdormu seemed to. And Anduin knew Wrathion hated being controlled, manipulated. So either he hadn't realised what Kairoz was doing... or he truly disliked Anduin after all. And Anduin was determined to know which.

As for Kairozdormu himself, Anduin knew that he was making promises which seemed very appealing, especially to an ambitious young dragon like Wrathion. Anduin worried about him sometimes - he was so eager to amass power for the defence of this world that he sometimes wondered if he was taking adequate precautions against being duped into schemes like the one Mannoroth had for the Orcs. He hoped Wrathion knew those promises were probably just as rotten. Not so much a bronze dragon as a gilded one, Anduin mused. He didn't like to think about what might be underneath - not if it was half as similar to Katrana Prestor as Anduin's subconscious seemed to think.

He'd confront Wrathion about it. Tomorrow.


	11. Baisemain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A kiss on the hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: T  
> tags: poly wranduin  
> warnings: compulsory reproduction mention

It was the day of the wedding, and Wrathion had been asked to be best man.

There'd initially been a great confusion over exactly what that _meant_ , of course. Wrathion was raised with Stromgarde values, and in Stromgarde, the best man was a swordsman you hired to take care of any nay-sayers who tried to crash the wedding and whisk your partner away into the night. In Stormwind, apparently, they were the best friend of the groom. That would be Anduin. It had taken Varian two hours of explaining, in varying levels of patience, to get Wrathion's actual role across to him.

And there was something else that Wrathion had insisted on. Everyone in Stormwind knew him as a great protector of the city, and many of the people were concerned he didn't approve of the marriage. It was necessary for Stormwind's line to continue, of course, but many knew of the kiss he and Anduin had shared after the Legion's defeat. It was... kind of difficult to keep that a secret, in fact, given how. Incredibly public it had been. Foolish, in retrospect, but what's done was done. So he needed to show that there was no need to panic.

He stepped out into the aisle, facing the couple. Many of those in Stormwind Cathedral's pews held their breath - they didn't know if Wrathion was about to whisk Anduin away, breathe fire on the both of them, or Light knew what else.

Slowly, he bowed to the both of them.

Then, he gently approached the bride. She was pretty, Wrathion thought, although apparently some of the people disagreed; he didn't care. She was also clever, and fierce, and kind. A good bride for Anduin, considering they were to be as political partners more than lovers.

He took her hand in his, lifted it to his lips, and pressed a kiss to it.

Most of Stormwind let out its breath.

Then he turned his head to Anduin and smiled. He'd always believed Anduin to be a thing of beauty, but today more than ever. His wedding outfit commanded the respect he deserved, and although there was a certain sadness in his eyes, that didn't detract from his radiance.

Wrathion took his hand, too, and lay another kiss to it.

Then he bowed, and once again took his position to Anduin's side of the wedding party. There was applause - Wrathion didn't know why; mortals seemed to applaud for everything - and then the ceremony proceeded, with Wrathion's blessing.

It was good to feel valued, at least.


	12. Grapholagnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The urge to stare at obscene pictures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: Explicit  
> tags: long-distance wranduin  
> warnings: NSFW

It had been months since Wrathion saw Anduin Wrynn, and he was missing him dearly in more ways than one.

Foremost among them, at present, was the despicable absence of Anduin's lips from Wrathion's own.

He flopped back onto his camp bed and sighed with exasperation. Ever since the Green Flight had begun helping him manage his... biology, he'd been given pills to take to suppress his heat when it arose. He didn't, at least, need to worry about being suddenly overwhelmed by the imperative  _need_  to have sex with someone. Or something. But he was still... edgy, and his desires were higher than they usually were.

Almost as if acting on its own, his hand moved across to the keychain around his neck. Taking it off, he rolled over onto his side and used the tiniest key on the necklace to unlock the bedside table. It was the sturdiest thing in the tent besides his actual lockbox, and for good reason - it contained most of his personal affects. At least, the ones he was carrying with him on the campaign and didn't have ferreted away in a safe somewhere in the heart of a mountain.

His fingers danced over various carved wooden unmentionables before finding what he actually wanted, at that moment. An envelope - the paper made of soft Stormwind stationary. It had been given to him those several months ago by Anduin himself, before they both left on their separate campaigns against the Legion, and it still smelled of him. Wrathion suspected it might have been enchanted to do so.

He opened it carefully - it had been slipped shut, not sealed, so that Wrathion could open and close it at-will without damaging the paper - and tugged out the folded items inside. A letter, and some pictures, too. Wrathion looked at the pictures first - they were the things that always took his breath away. Taken with a shaking hand on a gnomish pictograph and developed by Anduin himself, in his amateur way; they were discoloured and distorted in places, a fact of Anduin's inexpert development, but Wrathion didn't care about the quality of them. He cared about what they depicted.

Anduin Wrynn, with his legs spread, showing the camera his well-lubricated behind. Anduin Wrynn, his face flushed and breathless, his hand wrapped around his cock as he stretched himself out on an off-frame dildo. Anduin Wrynn, a clenched hand in his lovely hair, holding off his impending orgasm. Anduin Wrynn, showing off his stomach, spattered with his own cum.

There were more. They got filthier, more daring, throughout the stack - kinks Anduin knew they both shared made their appearances, and Wrathion finally pressed his fingers up against his own slick clit as he got to one of his favourites. He brought it to his face, inhaling Anduin's scent as he started to work on himself.

It didn't take him long, even without reading the letter - which was just as salacious as anything else Wrathion had looked at today, and just as personal, too. He wasn't shy about crying Anduin's name aloud - and he hoped maybe, somewhere, somehow, Anduin might even have felt it being called.


	13. Capernointed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slightly intoxicated or tipsy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: T  
> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: intoxication, nonconsensual drugging

Considering how much of an issue he had with anything resembling a loss of control of himself, Anduin had no idea how Prince Wrathion had managed, of all things, to end up  _drunk_.

All the signs were there. He was clumsy, giggly; he'd fallen over at least three times where normally he didn't put a single step wrong. And he'd leaned over, close, to Anduin's face - while they were in public. Disinhibited. He'd dropped his polearm while trying to twiddle it (very nearly taking Right's head off), spilled his juice, and called Anduin by a  _very_  filthy pet-name. Again, in public. He most certainly was not acting like himself.

Anduin could easily have been finding it amusing, but honestly, he was worried. Wrathion had never shown any inclination to drink alcohol before now, and most importantly, he didn't smell of it at all either. Anduin had an alcoholic father, he thought bitterly to himself; he knew what alcohol smelled like, even in small doses. (Because small doses, unless intervened on, quickly became large doses.) Unless Wrathion's dragon heart had somehow burned it all off from being able to be smelled, the dragon hadn't had anything to drink. Which meant someone... someone had drugged him.

And Anduin wasn't going to let them, whoever they were, do whatever it was they wanted to do to Wrathion once they had him vulnerable.

It took him thirty minutes to finally persuade the giddy, excitable dragon upstairs. Every time he thought he'd managed it, Wrathion would get distracted by something - something shiny, or even nothing at all - and he'd lost him for another ten minutes or so. When he'd finally cornered him into his room, he shut the door behind them both and grabbed Wrathion's shoulders.

"Sit down," he ordered, "on the bed."  
"Why?" Wrathion pouted petulantly.  
"Because," Anduin hissed quietly, "I need to know what you've had, and how much. So let me examine you."  
"That sounds boring! I want to go back downstairs."  
"Well, I need you to work with me here in case you're in trouble."

Wrathion scowled and folded his arms, swaying slightly where he stood, but sat down and let Anduin do what he wanted.

Anduin cupped his chin in one hand, lifting his face to look at it. He summoned a faint glow to his fingertips, then watched how Wrathion's pupils dilated as he held it near him; he flinched away too, but that was to be expected. Then he felt Wrathion's temperature, and his pulse. Then frowned.

"...I think you  _are_ just drunk," he said, slowly. "But I'm keeping you here under watch just in case."  
Wrathion huffed again, then flopped back against the bed. "Boring."  
" _You're_ boring. All you ever say is 'boring'," Anduin quipped, as he went to pour water into a glass from the pitcher Tong always kept on both their desks ("his temper gets even worse when he is not hydrated," the old Pandaren had explained to Anduin; then added with a smile, "and you just get sad, so I thought it best").

He expected another slurred comeback, but by the time he turned back to look at Wrathion again, he seemed to have fallen asleep. Panic swelled in his gut and he set the glass down, rushing over; but was calmed when he checked Wrathion's breathing and found it just fine. Turning him onto his side and tilting his chin up with Wrathion's hand slid up to keep it in place, Anduin stood back and watched the sleeping young man.

What a silly predicament...


	14. Cataglottism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kissing with tongue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: M  
> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: (none of note)

Anduin was gentle. Somehow, Wrathion was even gentler.

Their lips only just touched; Wrathion pulled away, shy. “You’re… sure,” he repeated, for the third time, “that this is what you want, Anduin Wrynn?”  
"Very," Anduin said, barely constraining his enthusiasm - scared it would frighten Wrathion away if he didn’t. "Please..?"

Wrathion leaned up again, one hand resting on Anduin’s hip and the other poised nervously on his shoulder. Their lips pressed up against one another - Anduin’s soft and sweet, Wrathion’s warm and smooth. Again, Wrathion pulled away a little; but this time, only to wet his lips a little before closing the kiss again.

They made another series of small, tender kisses like that. Anduin tried to press further into each of them than the last, but he was trying to gauge whether Wrathion was truly only being considerate of him, or whether he was simply nervous or hesitant himself and trying to fulfil Anduin’s own desires with none of his own being cast in the same direction. The dragon was… surprisingly prone to doing that, given how many of his waking hours were angled towards obtaining his unconditional freedom from outside forces.

But it was, to Anduin’s relief, Wrathion who finally initiated the next step. Anduin felt a wetness against his lips, and noticed a moment later it was Wrathion’s tongue; laughing lightly, well-aware this was likely Wrathion’s  _first_ kiss, he cupped his hand behind Wrathion’s head and tilted his own to deepen it properly. Learning quickly, Wrathion copied the way Anduin’s tongue moved - gently dipping past the threshold of the other’s lips, circling their tongue before backing off to let the other do the same.

Wrathion’s own tongue was most curious, Anduin thought. Perhaps he should have expected it, given his dragon form had a forked tongue anyway; it was as though it had been split down the middle by something, despite its otherwise human-like texture and musculature.

"Mm…" Anduin gently pulled away, though only far enough to allow himself to speak. He was more than intending to renew the kiss again once he was done. "Do you still have your vomeronasal organ in humanoid form?"  
"My…" Wrathion paused, "ah, yes. No, I don’t."  
"Shame. I was going to ask you what I tasted like to you…"  
"I can still tell you  _that_ , my dear Prince,” Wrathion smirked. “Though… maybe one more taste for good measure.”

Anduin chuckled, then gladly let Wrathion close the kiss once more.


	15. Basorexia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An overwhelming desire to kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: Explicit  
> tags: mild D/s  
> warnings: NSFW

"P— Please, Wrathion!  _Please_!”  
"Mmm, no, I think I’ll decide when~."

Anduin whined  _loudly_. This wasn’t fair! This wasn’t fair at  _all_ … Wrathion was giving him the most wonderful oral stimulation he could imagine, but he wanted to  _kiss_  him, and he  _wouldn’t_. “Please, Wrathion!”

"Mmmmh…" Wrathion gave a long, languid lick up Anduin’s shaft. It twitched against his tongue. "Mmmaybe soon."  
"Please!" Anduin arched his back, whimpering. "Wrathion!"  
Wrathion grasped the base of his length in his fingers, then wet his lips, looking up at Anduin. For a moment it seemed like he might finally grant his request… but then he grinned wickedly and, instead, took Anduin deep into his mouth.  
” _Light_!” Anduin cried out, shuddering hard. It was taking all his strength not to finish there and then - but Wrathion had asked him (after much encouragement from Anduin himself…) not to do  _that_  until his say-so, either. And Anduin had to admit he was making it very difficult for Anduin to keep to his word.

"Please kiss me!" He breathed out hard as Wrathion deliberately pressed the tip of his cock against the back of his throat, knowing how good it would feel. Anduin suspected Wrathion liked how it felt on his end, too, because he always let out the most lewd moans. " _PLEASE_!”  
Wrathion pulled back. “What, you don’t like what I’m doing now~?”  
"I— I do! But I want you to kiss me too~…"  
"Well, you’ll wait until I’m done, then." That silly grin again. He put a wet kiss up against the tip of Anduin’s cock, then started suckling on his tip.  
"Light! W— _Wrathion_! Wrathion please I’m going to cum I’m going to—”  
Wrathion pulled back. “Cum for me,” he breathed.

Anduin didn’t need telling twice. He let out a loud cry as his back arched and his cock twitched - Wrathion gladly took the ropes of seed onto his face, then - finally - rushed up to oblige Anduin’s desperate requests.


	16. Duende

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unusual power to attract or charm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: G  
> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: abuse mention

Wrathion could always make Anduin's cheeks flush, his heart race. He could always, always make him hard.

Anduin _hated_ it.

He was always so... so _charming_ , and charismatic, and strangely polite. It made Anduin not trust him an inch. It reminded him all too closely of Wrathion's own aunt, who had masqueraded as an advisor of Anduin's own kingdom for years - destroying much of his father's hard work to foster a safe home for his people in the wake of the Orcish invasion, and destroying much of Anduin's own childhood to boot, in some of the most awful ways Anduin could imagine a childhood being destroyed.

But he didn't do anything _wrong_. He was... nice, even. Especially when they were alone. He'd never touched Anduin without asking at least twice; never even started a conversation with him without asking once, either. He always respected when Anduin said he wanted to be alone and never followed him around unless Anduin said it was alright to, even when he seemed lonely.

He just hated how he came across in public, he guessed. He was trying to be impressive in the only way he knew how, and it was a way that played very badly with Anduin's memories of his semblance of a childhood. But that was such a nebulous complaint, and he could hardly bring that up to Wrathion on its own... so he kept quiet.


	17. Sphallolalia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flirtatious talk that leads no where.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: T  
> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: (none of note)

"Wrathion?"  
"Yes, Prince Wrynn?"  
"Are you ever actually just going to shut up for ten seconds so you can kiss me?"

Anduin's tone was annoyed, not amused, and he met Wrathion's eyes challengingly. Wrathion tried not to squirm too much or too obviously under his frankly frightening gaze.

"No," he said. "No, I'm not."  
"What, so you're just going to talk about how attractive I am for long enough that I get bored of hearing about it? I don't actually  _enjoy_  being flirted with by you, Wrathion."  
Wrathion dipped his chin down, frowning.  
"Especially if you're not even truly attracted to me. So if you could just stop."  
"Do I have to act on my attraction in order to be attracted?"  
"What?"

They both paused. Anduin took a deep breath. "Sorry," he said. "You mean... you  _are_  attracted to me?"  
"Yes," Wrathion said, just as carefully. "But I don't want to act on it. And this is... wrong, you say?"  
"Not wrong, more..." annoying, Anduin's first instinct was to say, but that wasn't quite right and it wasn't fair on Wrathion, either. "...unusual. It wasn't the first thing I expected. Sorry."  
"You said you don't enjoy being flirted with by me."  
"Not particularly, no. Not in public, anyway."  
"Then I won't do it any longer." There was no malice or bitterness in Wrathion's tone.

Anduin smiled, a little sadly. "I'm really sorry for snapping at you..."  
"It's quite alright, Anduin Wrynn. I only hoped I could have inspired enough trust in you that you could air your concerns earlier, but I see now that my aggressive demeanour may have prevented that."  
"A little bit... I was worried you'd get, um." He laughed, awkwardly. "Aggressive."  
"I certainly didn't mean to frighten you, Anduin Wrynn, and I'll most definitely endeavour not to do so again. Consider it done."  
"Thanks."

"...but I wouldn't mind kissing you if you ever wanted to," Anduin added, hastily.


	18. Cheiloproclitic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being attracted to someone’s lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: T  
> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: self-harm mention

Anduin had never really thought about what attracted him to other people, before. Usually, it was just a kind of… feeling. The handsome, dark-skinned, gentle paladin from the Cathedral. The young, earnest trainee from the Exodar with one more tentacle on his face than normal. The chipper gnome priest with the shiny hair. Anduin had just…  _liked_  them; thought, privately, about kissing them; and then shied away from interacting with them, afraid his apparent crush might frighten them away.

It was different with Wrathion. He knew  _exactly_  why it was he was attracted to him.

It was just his lips. The way the texture looked so… well, interesting. Unusual. Different, even from a half-elf’s. How thick and soft and kissable they were. Just his lips.

And how honeyed the words were, that came from between them; how soft and silky his voice, how easy to listen to, how paced and even and easy to understand even with his unusual Stromgarde accent. How hot Wrathion’s breath was that it misted in even the slightest cold - a reminder, constant and ever-present, of Wrathion’s true nature. How Wrathion’s fingertips would press against them just so, when he was deep in thought. The way the patch of facial hair beneath them curled to follow the curve of his chin.

The way his cheeks, which they were set between, seemed so smooth and yet had a subtle mottling to them suggestive of scales; the way his nose, set above them, was round and cute and most certainly kissable as well. The way his hair, when he let it down out of his turban, tumbled down from his head and bounced all about his face like a magnificent waterfall. The way its curls caught the Light like so many polished wooden rings.

How bright his teeth glinted in the light when they caught it. How they flashed when he grinned, alacritious, excited, at some new tidbit of knowledge; however insignificant, however well-known by the rest of the world. He had a way of making things,  _all_  things, seem truly remarkable. And he had a way of making them so in truth, as well. Not all smoke and mirrors.

Even, and he’d noticed this, the way the edges of them, right where his fangs sat if he tucked his lower lip in, were all torn-up and scarred with a thousand nights’ of biting and chewing. The way he bit against the knuckle of his hand, sometimes to bleeding, when he was anxious or afraid - he didn’t like to think others noticed, but Anduin had. And he wanted to take Wrathion’s bleeding hand, his bleeding lips, and kiss them all better until there was nothing to be afraid of any more. But he knew that wasn’t what Wrathion would want, so he didn’t.

He didn’t do any of it. He didn’t say anything, do anything. He sat, and smiled, and snarked, and played Jihui - and stared, sometimes, at his lips. Always the lips. Just them.


	19. Agelast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A person who never laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: G  
> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: (none of note)

It wasn't the first trait anybody noticed about Anduin Wrynn. In fact, many people went through their entire lives mistakenly believing that it wasn't the case. But Wrathion noticed.

Anduin Wrynn never laughed.

It was the great secret; the strange contradiction. Anduin Wrynn, who was always a beacon of happiness, never laughed. He would smile - sympathetically, serenely, sarcastically. But never laugh, not even once, not in the months and months that Wrathion had now known him for.

He gave sad smiles, a lot. He stared off into space when he thought nobody was paying attention to him. He bit his lip when he was anxious about how things were progressing on the front line. He smiled at Tong's jokes - and Wrathion's, too - but never any other reaction.

After a while, Wrathion decided to settle on it being a simple fact of Anduin's identity in the world. He didn't  _need_  to laugh, per se. He was perfectly good at bringing hope to others even without doing so (although whether Anduin himself was  _happy_  was another matter entirely). And perhaps it was simply a factor of how discipline Anduin was; Wrathion wished, after all, that he could have half the control over his own emotions that Anduin Wrynn had over his.

But secretly, Wrathion still wished that, one day, he could see Anduin laugh - genuine, unapologetic, happy laughter. And - even more secretly - that he would be the one who had caused it to happen.


	20. Gargalesthesia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sensation that arises from being tickled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: G  
> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: (none of note)

It was the most unusual sensation Wrathion had ever experienced to date.

Not exactly... pleasant, but not explicitly _painful_. He found himself squirming away from it and lashing his tail out at the individual who'd caused it to him - Anduin Wrynn.

"What _is_ that?"  
Anduin giggled. "I'm tickling you. Do you mind it? I'll stop if you like."  
"Mm... no, show me again."  
"Alright."

So he did. And this time, Wrathion breathed fire when he tried to squirm away.

"Hey!" Anduin shook his finger, then sucked on it. "That hurt."  
"Sorry."  
"Maybe... doing this isn't such a good idea."  
"It would certainly seem so."


	21. Tarantism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The urge to overcome melancholy by dancing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: T  
> tags: amputee wrathion, chronic pain anduin  
> warnings: background character death

They'd won. They'd really won.

It had been five days now, and Wrathion still hadn't managed to set it into his mind that it had really happened. They'd really, really won.

Neither had Anduin Wrynn, it seemed. He was melancholy at the best of times - Wrathion caught him, one night, crying bitterly. He thought it best not to ask; he simply pulled him into the hug he knew Anduin would want, stroking his back and kissing his hair.

And now Anduin was demanding they dance.

"Like... a courtly dance?" Wrathion wrinkled his nose.  
"Yes... well, kind of. I just want to dance with you. Put some music on and move. Please?"  
"Well, alright." Wrathion frowned. "Are you alright?"  
"No. That's why I'd like to dance."

They took a gentle pace; it allowed for Anduin's chronic pain, and Wrathion's newly missing left leg. Wrathion took the lead for Anduin's sake, and soon enough Anduin's head found its way onto Wrathion's shoulder.  
"We won..." Anduin said, slowly, but Wrathion could tell there was more to the sentence, so he didn't interrupt. "...but we lost so much, didn't we?"

Wrathion's leg wasn't even the start of it. They'd lost vast swathes of Stormwind and all the people in it; similar stories were told the world over. It was hard to find a single individual who hadn't lost something. The entire world of Draenor had fallen to Sargeras' schemes. The Naaru had all perished; there were only five surviving Draenei who they'd found so far...

"We did," Wrathion said, gently. "But we are here, and we are dancing. So not all's lost."


	22. Lygerastia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The condition of one who is only amorous when the lights are out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: T  
> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: self hate

"Are you sure you want this, Wrathion?"  
"Yes. Absolutely." Wrathion pulled Anduin closer. "Just... do blow the candle out, won't you?"  
Anduin frowned, but did as he was asked, putting the cap over it. He pressed blind kisses to Wrathion's neck, but murmured, "why..?"  
"A very personal question, Anduin Wrynn, and one I'd rather not answer."

The truth was, the entire reason was that he didn't want to answer questions. He didn't want to answer questions about how his skin came to be marked so. He'd only lived for two years, after all; so how would he have such large scars over himself? His pale markings winding around his limbs and stomach; as though he'd been sliced to pieces and stitched back together again afterwards. Which he had. The cuts on his knees and torso, as though he'd fumbled in training exercise after training exercise. Which he had. The thin slices on his wrist and thigh, delicate and thin and straight as an arrow, as though he'd cut himself. Which he had.

He didn't want to answer questions about any of it. And although denying Anduin a view of himself also denied Wrathion the same of Anduin, he thought that was something he could live with, if it meant never needing to explain how it was he'd come to be - or how he'd come to hate himself so.


	23. Wanweird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unhappy fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Best read alongside the end of Chapter 35 of "War Crimes" by Christie Golden.
> 
> rating: M  
> tags: i couldn't think how to put this into a concise tag but this work is probably the one i've written that best fits the title "derivative work"  
> warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH

"'s cold in here," he said, his voice feeling sluggish in his throat.

Today had been... the strangest thing.

His father had been missing for five years. Dead for five years. Onyxia had shown him. She'd shown him the body, and then forced him to forget it and remember it as she bid. She used it to toy with him. They were all toys to her, dead or alive.

Gone for five years meant it was time to crown a new king. And anyway, they'd said, fifteen wasn't such a bad age, for a king. The kings of old were younger. Anduin thought that was a bit of a funny way to word it, but he didn't say so. He never said anything that might upset Onyxia.

He'd dreaded the coronation. He'd felt the walls close in on him so many times today; and then suddenly a vortex had opened in front of them, and Anduin had almost thought it was a gift from the Light to set him free.

He wasn't wrong.

He'd found himself in... such a foreign place. Such strange architecture that he remembered in exquisite detail; so many unfamiliar faces. All sorts of strange creatures. Great glowing animals; huge hulking trolls and tauren, like in his picture books. They all seemed like the murals on the palace walls, the gnomish projections he'd watched; untouchable and far away.

Until he'd seen himself. He focussed on himself. He looked... older, somehow, though equally he somehow knew he wasn't. He looked strong, and capable, and smart. He was wearing practical clothes which Anduin loved. They were exactly what he would have chosen to wear. He'd love to wear them, to hold them, to be in anything other than the heavy and elaborate and smothering clothes he was now. And he was in trouble -

Suddenly he found himself throwing his mace; it had been a gift from a dear friend who had passed soon afterwards, as all his friends did, murdered either by Onyxia or her lackeys. He learned not to make friends, eventually. It only put them in danger. But slowly, as he watched his stronger self fight, he realised Onyxia wasn't here. She wasn't dragging him to his feet and scolding him, striking him; she wasn't calling him names. She wasn't here.

She wasn't here to hold him back. So when he saw himself suddenly cower from a death blow, once again, he found himself in motion.

This time, it was towards the combat. This time - this one time. This one time, he was brave.

It was cold here...

His other self gathered him tighter in a hug, careful of the wound in his stomach. It seemed far away, like everything else had a few moments ago, and instead all he could focus on was the man in front of him. His face... he looked as brave as Anduin had felt a moment ago, even as tears gathered in his eyes. "I've got you," he said, his voice shaking just ever so slightly.

Anduin didn't know what was going to happen now. "I'm afraid," he said, but even his own voice sounded far away, now. He tried to say something else, but the words didn't even reach his mouth, he knew.  
"Don't be," the other Anduin said, swallowing hard. The swallow reverberated through Anduin's shoulder, louder than his own heartbeat. "You'll be with Mother and-- and Father."  
"Is..." he tried to speak louder, but he wasn't sure if he succeeded. He couldn't hear himself. "Father alive? Here?"  
"Yes, yes he is."

To know that some version of himself - that he, in a way - had escaped such an unhappy fate... it was such a relief that Anduin would have smiled and laughed, at any other time. He would have danced, and hugged himself, and told him to tell him all the things he wished he could have said over the long five years, ask for all the reassurances he'd wanted. Instead, he just closed his eyes. "I'm glad. I wish I could see him."  
"You will," the other Anduin said, emotion swelling behind his voice and making it shake. "Just-- hang on, alright?"  
He almost regretted that he couldn't. Almost. But he knew somehow, like he'd known that this other Anduin was the same age as him, that this was the only way he'd never have to see Onyxia again. He knew that once he fell asleep, he would not wake; and the other Anduin knew that, too. He smiled as much as he could. "You're as bad a liar as I am." Then, too tired to keep it, let it fade. "Tell him I love him."  
"I will," said the other Anduin.

And, as simply as every night when he went to bed, he fell asleep.


	24. Dystopia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An imaginary place of total misery. A metaphor for hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: T  
> tags: Legion war  
> warnings: nightmares, apocalypse scenario, body horror, vore [not the kinky kind], death mention

The sea was blood, and the land was broken.

Wrathion couldn’t help but despair when looking out over the mournful sight. This was everything he’d fought to avoid. Ever since he’d has his first vision of the fate the other worlds had met at the hands of the Legion, this had been his inspiration. The point at which they would not reach, because he would stand in the way. And now it was in front of him.

Everything in his body shriveled. His heart, his lungs, his stomach; but he wasn’t paying attention to the emotional reaction his wretched failure of a shell was experiencing. He could only focus on one thing.

Sargeras, the World Eater, the Fallen Titan.

Wrathion had always feared his father. That was common knowledge; many fears of his, Wrathion endeavoured to keep a secret, but that was one both obtrusive and obvious enough that there had been no point in even attempting to conceal it. One of his repetitive fears was the fear that his father would swallow him whole; so large was he, and so furious, that he would do such a thing without a second thought to it.

Yet Sargeras was bigger. Sargeras was more baleful, more rage-filled than Deathwing could ever have dreamed of being. And Sargeras was making eye contact with Wrathion across the devastated wastelands.

There was something eternal about the moment. Something about the two of them being locked together like this, eye to eye across the miles and miles they had to be separated by for Sargeras’ ponderous form to be half-obscured by the horizon as it was, which seemed as if it would never end and had never even begun. It had always been, and would always be.

At least until Sargeras destroyed him.

A hand on his shoulder pulled him out of his reverie, although he found he couldn’t turn his head to look at the person in question. He knew who it was even without catching their scent. Anduin Wrynn had been with him throughout this, although Wrathion feared their time together was almost over.

“Wrathion,” he said, gently. “It’s time to wake up.”

And then Wrathion wasn’t on the clifftop any more.

He found himself in bed in a tent, the distant sound of artillery fire somehow melding into what he’d imagined to be meteors in the dream. Anduin was’t there. No-- no. He was beginning to remember, now, as he sat up and pushed his sticky hair off his sweat-soaked forehead. Anduin was fifty miles away or more in a location Wrathion wasn’t privy to, just as Anduin wasn’t privy to Wrathion’s exact location either. A security measure, in case one of them was captured. But somehow… yes. He was sure it had been Anduin, in truth, who had awoken him from his terrible dream.

He breathed out, and only lifted his head to nod to Right as she asked if he’d like something to drink. Now came the difficult task of determining whether it had been a vision, or simply a nightmare. Whether there had been two psychic links established in that dream, not simply the one with Anduin. Whether his location had been compromised.

He allowed himself, just for a moment, to sob. This war was taking it all from them, whether they were winning or not; and he was so very, very tired. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this - or if he’d done anything at all, in fact. Perhaps he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. But that was the way of his entire life, wasn’t it? It was the great irony; the antithesis to what he wished to achieve was the only thing which hounded him throughout his existence. He wanted nothing more than to be able to choose his own future, of his own free will; and yet his every decision was hounded by coincidence.

Perhaps he was going mad. Perhaps he’d always been mad. Perhaps Sargeras and his father were the ones with the right of it; their belief that this world had to be remade, were it to have any good in it. That it was too precarious, too close to the great pit of corruption - that it had to be torn apart and built again, built better. And what better demonstration of the principle than Wrathion himself? Cut to pieces and re-assembled without the taint; a perfect specimen. A perfect example.

Wrathion hated it. He hated the lack of choice he’d had in the matter to begin with, and the arrogance Sargeras displayed in making the decision for every being on Azeroth and beyond. Like Rhonin had with Algalon, it was up to the people of Azeroth to demonstrate that their choice was not to be taken from them. And like Algalon, it seemed they would have to fight for it.

But it was so very tiring. To fight for your existence where your enemy would simply snuff it from you. To sure up every boundary between worlds; to constantly fear the dark, fear the unplanned portal, fear the future. Fear every Hell, both real and imagined. Fear the loss of those who you cared for.

Wrathion swallowed, taking the glass of cool water that Right passed him without a word. His moment of doubt was over, and he needed to return to work. Imagined or not, the visions pursuing him would only - could only - push him to work harder. Whether he did have a choice in whether to fight or not was irrelevant; even if he did, this was the decision he would make.

“We press on,” he muttered. “As always.”

 


	25. Ayurnamat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The philosophy that there is no point in worrying about events that cannot be changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: T  
> tags: Legion war  
> warnings: (none of note)

“Well, there’s no point worrying about it at this stage, is there?”

Anduin stared at his companion. How could he-- what?  
“Of course there is!”  
“If it’s as hopeless as you say, then no, there is not.” The black dragon straightened his back, tucking his hands behind it, and looked Anduin in the eye.

Anduin frowned. “Wrathion, that’s-- that’s--”  
“Logical, surely?” He turned the rest of his body to face Anduin, tilting his head. “You say there’s nothing more we can do in the face of the oncoming invasion save what we already prepared. I agree, and propose furthermore that there is little point in concerning ourselves with what-ifs and but-surelys. Is that not the basis of faith; of hope?”

Anduin dropped his head into his hands. “You’re right,” he said; expecting Wrathion to make some triumphant statement or to dust his hands of the matter. But he didn’t - he sat down next to Anduin, and when Anduin looked across, it seemed as if he was listening for more.

“...but that’s not all there is to it,” Anduin eventually went on. “I don’t know. I can tell myself in my mind all I like that worrying about it won’t help, but I still just keep thinking about how… unprepared we are. How could we be anything _but_ unprepared? They have resources from-- from every planet in the _multiverse_ , and we’re just…”

Wrathion put his arm around Anduin, and Anduin let himself focus on the uncanny warmth the dragon always emitted. “I know,” Wrathion said quietly - seriously. “But it’s all we can do to keep from falling into the pit of despair, I’m afraid. Know that there is no benefit in worrying about it, and endeavour not to do so.”

Maybe it wasn’t the most reassuring piece of advice, but… he was right. Anduin leaned into the half-hug, and tried to calm down. After all, even preparing the defences they _did_ have access to was enough work on its own. Worrying about defences they _didn’t_ would only run him down.

 

 


	26. Anagapesis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The feeling when one no longer loves someone they once did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: T  
> tags: breakup fic, post War Crimes novel  
> warnings: depression

Anduin felt sick.

It was the day after the end of Garrosh’s trial, and Anduin felt sick. He wished it was because he felt Garrosh’s punishment was too harsh, or that he’d been treated with dishonour at the end. He wished. But the reason he stayed curled on the cot in his tent on the Violet Rise, rain drizzling too softly on the canvas to even make a sound and yet its miserable coldness still permeating the atmosphere, wasn’t anything to do with Garrosh.

_It is my deep hope that one day you will understand._

“Ugh!” He was so smug. Anduin couldn’t stand it. He threw a pillow, hard, against the silk inner tent, and it landed with frustrating softness. In a fit, he struck at the pillow still on his cot; that was a little more satisfying, although the way agony lanced up from his fist to his shoulder and made him collapse back to lying down was not so much so. He cried out in frustration, pain, and heartbreak, and gave up.

Heartbreak. Why _heartbreak_? He hadn’t loved Wrathion. They’d just been friends. That was the worst part about this - he’d _half expected it_ , and yet it still left a hole of agony in his chest.

A sob welled out of that hole, and Anduin was left with no choice but to let it overtake him. He _hadn’t_ loved him. Had he..? He was a black dragon, and one Anduin had always suspected might have more motives than simply world peace. He couldn’t have. He couldn’t.

And… yet…

Usually, the Light brought comfort. But today, it brought only truth: the quiet, unsettling certainty that Anduin _had_ loved the Black Prince Wrathion.

_Had._

He let the tears that were threatening at his eyes spill out, his fist pounding into the pillow again with ineffective fury. Of all the people Anduin chose to fall in love with, and it had to be this one. This awful, smug, treacherous _dragon_. Of all the people.

At least he didn’t love him any _more_ , he comforted himself with bitterly, as he turned over and tried to get back to sleep - despite the noise of the camp being broken down around him.

 


	27. Lalochezia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The use of abusive language to relieve stress or ease pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: T  
> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: mild ableist language

“ _Idiot_ King!” he spat, kicking the bench. “The _one_ time I leave things to other people and he goes and _messes things up_! This is a _travesty_! A _monstrosity_!” He paced to the other end of the room and slammed his fist on the counter with a satisfyingly loud bang, despite the pain suddenly aching up from his fingers. “ _Anyone_ with _half_ a mind could see the best course of action to take was to annex the Horde! It’s _absurd_! First he refuses to make peace by a treaty, and _now_ he refuses to make peace by assimilation?! _Ridiculous_!”

What Wrathion didn’t know, of course, was that his Blacktalons weren’t the only ones listening to his words.

Anduin didn’t reveal himself. He didn’t want this to turn into a confrontation. Seeing Wrathion spit such vitriol, and against his own father, for making a decision Anduin agreed with… it was difficult. It _stung_! Wrathion was using such awful words, too… words he didn’t think were within the vocabulary the dragon liked to use, but apparently he was wrong.

But he really didn’t want an argument. He just wanted to understand. So he listened, and after a little while, he began to think he maybe did.

Wrathion wasn’t angry. He was… frustrated. His plan hadn’t gone right, maybe for the first time. Someone he didn’t know or particularly like had made a decision he couldn’t understand. He was just… lashing out. He was _hurt_.

Anduin could cope with that. Light, he could _understand_ it. If he said he’d never snapped at someone in hurt or frustration, he’d be lying. Could he really blame Wrathion for doing the same thing?

Calmness settled over him as the answer made itself known in his heart. And without saying anything or making his presence known, Anduin left Wrathion to his catharsis. It probably wouldn’t come to anything major.

 


	28. Malapert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clever in manners of speech.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: T  
> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: (none of note)

Anduin rest his chin on his hand and watched Wrathion talk. He wasn’t listening to the words - he didn’t need to, really; it didn’t concern him. But he watched the man’s lips move, watched the way he gesticulated. The way he looked up at his champion with a grin and a glint in his eye. He always had something clever to say, didn’t he? Something smart. And most people were very impressed by that.

Anduin had to admit to himself: he was among the number.

Sometimes it made the dragon seem a little foolish, it had to be said. He’d use a word wrongly, or speak of something beyond the scope of his knowledge, and his desire to seem all-knowing would have him looking silly - and in all honesty, Anduin found that cute, too. He grinned to himself as Wrathion presented his champion with something shiny and powerful. All in all, Wrathion was very… endearing.

Suddenly, he realised his cheeks felt warm - and he sat back from the table they shared to look out of the window. He didn’t want his curiosity to be mistaken for anything else. No. Wrathion was… he was _interesting_. But sometimes his cleverness was endearing, and sometimes it was… a little bit scary, to be honest. He’d say things and raise conversation topics which made Anduin wonder whether he should even be spending time with him at all.

But he was spending time with him. Sometimes he considered returning to Lion’s Landing to be with his father, but he knew in his heart that he wanted to stay here and… well. Make friends with him. That’s all.

They’d see how it went, he supposed.


	29. Quidnunc

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One who always has to know what is going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: T  
> tags: (none of note)  
> warnings: mild surveillance implications

“What? Anduin? What are you doing?”  
“I’m tell you, it’s nothing!” Anduin laughed, bright and cheerful, but Wrathion persisted.  
“No! I want to know!”  
“Really, it doesn’t concern you at all!” He kept walking, and despite the fact he did so with a cane, Wrathion had to trot to keep up. Damn those long legs to the Nether. “I promise!”  
“That’s absurd, Anduin Wrynn. _Everything_ concerns me. I am Azeroth’s guardian, he who guards the world, and therefore everything that happens upon it is _absolutely my business_!”  
“But what I’m doing with my spare time? Really?” Anduin stopped and turned to face Wrathion, smirking wide.

Wrathion felt a spark of guilt well in his stomach as Anduin’s triumphant expression washed over his consciousness. “Well… mm… _no_. Perhaps not.”  
“What if it was a surprise for you? Or one of those _high security secrets_ you’re always so keen to hide from me?”  
“With all due respect, nothing Stormwind Intelligence 7 can produce classifies as a _high security_ secret. At least not in my book.”  
“So no respect at all, then,” Anduin grinned.  
“Exactly.”  
“So let me have my secret! Who cares?”  
“I do!”

“But _should_ you?”  
“...not… really,” Wrathion finally conceded. “Perhaps not.”  
Anduin’s expression turned serious for a moment. “So will you please stop hounding me about it? I want my privacy sometimes, too.”  
Wrathion looked at him. “I…” Then looked away. “Very well, Anduin Wrynn. You can have your secret this time. My apologies for making you uncomfortable.”  
“Thank you,” Anduin said earnestly. And he leaned in to kiss Wrathion’s cheek.

Or so Wrathion thought. In fact, he whispered by his ear: “I’m writing a novel, by the way.”

Then grinned, and turned away.

“Wh--” Wrathion couldn’t help but laugh, chasing after Anduin with a grin on his face. “You little--! You could have just _told_ me that to begin with!”

And maybe he could, but... even Wrathion had to admit that wouldn’t have been as fun.


	30. Ultracrepidarian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of one who speaks or offers opinions on matters beyond their knowledge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating: M  
> tags: suggestive  
> warnings: bio sex implied [cis Anduin]

“You know,” Wrathion smirked, “if you used a little less starch on your clothing, things like that might not happen.”  
“Wh… what?” Anduin looked at him, his cheeks pink. “What do you mean?”  
“Why, like _that_.”

He pointed.

Anduin’s cheeks darkened, his blush spreading out to his ears.

“That’s, um…” Anduin hesitated, “That’s not…”  
“There’s no shame in admitting it, Anduin Wrynn. Your cleaners just need to adjust the reagents they use for their clothes-washing spells a little, so’s as not to make them quite so stiff. It’s not difficult.”  
“I--”  
“And just why are you so flustered, after all? It’s not as if you washed them yourself, is it?”  
“ _It’s not my clothes_!” Anduin finally blurted out, his head ducked down so his fringe was covering as much of his face as possible.

“Then… what?” Wrathion said, one eyebrow raised skeptically.

When Anduin told him, it was Wrathion’s turn to blush.


End file.
